


Damaged Goods

by notvelma



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-18
Updated: 2012-08-18
Packaged: 2017-11-12 09:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notvelma/pseuds/notvelma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When West can't handle his boyfriend's abuse anymore, he always goes to Spider for comfort. Spider has never minded this before, but then the comfort turns into something more, leaving both men wondering where to go from here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damaged Goods

**Author's Note:**

> Contains - Mentions of domestic abuse (physical, includes mention of bruises), drug use (marijuana only, only a passing mention), alcoholism, somewhat graphic sex scene, age difference (28 years old + 41 years old).

First thing Spider noticed when he woke up on Saturday morning was that he could hear the dryer going in the laundry room across the hall. For one long moment, he caught himself believing that it was Jarod, up before him and already cleaning. Then he blinked a couple of times and shook himself fully awake, realizing with a pang that Jarod was still dead. He would always be dead. 

Spider had clearly had too much to drink the night before if he was waking up to delusions of his former boyfriend. Jarod had been dead almost ten years now, but those fantasies always came after a long night of drinking. Every morning that he woke up in the past, Spider told himself that he had to quit drinking. And every Friday night he came home, looked around the empty house and poured himself that first glass of scotch. 

As Spider finally roused himself out of bed, stretching to relieve the kinks in his back and popping some aspirin to relieve his hangover, Spider realized that if Jarod wasn't doing laundry, it meant that somebody else was in his house. His Marine training had him on high alert as he headed out to check the rest of the house for potential intruders, though he had his suspicions about who was in his house and knew that if he was right, there was nothing to worry about. 

When he got out to the living room, Spider found a naked boy sprawled out on his couch. On closer inspection, he realized it was not a boy but a clean-shaven West Connolly, and that the man was not, in fact, naked. West wore a pair of white boxer-briefs and nothing else, but the way he sprawled out, with nothing but his junk covered up and he might as well have been naked. 

West was in his late twenties, but without the usual day-old scruff he wore, his smooth, pale skin and dark hair made him look like a young, ethereal fae creature, especially with the decorative tattoo winding its way up his left arm, like some kind of magic mark on his skin. Spider felt a wave of concern wash over him as he spotted an ugly bruise forming on West's bare back. 

Apparently the bastard was at it again; that must have been why West had shown up here in the middle of the night. Shaking his head, Spider decided to let West sleep, figuring that if the dryer was still going that the guy must not have arrived too long ago. 

Spider went into the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee before starting up the griddle so he could make some pancakes. Hangovers made him hungry for a big breakfast, and the weekend was the only time he ever had to really cook, so he took full advantage of it. He knew his guest could use some nourishment as well. From what Spider had glimpsed of the guy's nearly-nude body, West could stand to gain some weight. West usually wore layers of bulky clothes that did a good job of hiding his slim body. 

After the pancakes were finished, Spider ate a pretty big share of them before wrapping the rest up for the still-sleeping West. Then he took some time to clean up the kitchen, putting the dirty dishes from last night into the dishwasher and turning it on. He hated having to do that kind of house-keeping shit, but living alone meant there was nobody else to clean up after him. 

Once the kitchen was clean, Spider went into the laundry room and started a load of his own dirty laundry before taking West's dry clothes out of the dryer and folding them up. He brought them into the living room and left them on the recliner next to the couch for West when he woke up. After all the inside chores were finished, Spider finally went out back to the yard to work on his truck.

Spider's nine-to-five, Monday-to-Friday job was down at the auto shop in town where he worked on other people's cars all day, and while most guys didn't like to spend their weekends doing what they did every day at work, Spider was the exception. He liked cars and their engines because they didn't talk back, they didn't nag, and they didn't expect anything from him. Jarod had been like that, too – he didn't nag, he didn't expect Spider to be perfect – and he'd also been smart and funny and handsome and loving and something worth coming home to after a hard day. 

Now with Jarod gone, everything was just emptiness. There was work and then coming home to the big empty house and the bottle of cheap whiskey on the counter. So Spider drank to forget, drank to remember... These days, he drank because it was the only thing he really had left.

His cousin Barrett had tried to get Spider to go to one of those AA meetings, calling him an alcoholic and telling him that he was gonna kill himself like his daddy had done. Spider had ended that conversation by reminding Barrett of his own addiction problems. It was the McLaughlin family curse, always addicted to something that would end up killing them. Spider's daddy had died from the alcohol, and his Uncle Tommy – Barrett's daddy – had gotten too deep into the gambling, owed money to the wrong people and gotten himself killed. Barrett was headed down that path with the drugs, and Spider – 

Well, Spider had turned forty the year before, and at this point he'd given up trying to find a happily ever after. He'd thought with Jarod he might have a chance at something good, but once Jarod had died, Spider had slowly begun to lose the will to even try. Now, he was just living day-to-day, waiting for the moment when it would all be over. The alcohol just helped move things along. 

Today, he was working on his truck. That was, at least, one thing he could enjoy doing. 

He spent the better part of the morning outside, losing himself in the process of taking the pieces apart and fixing them, knowing that whatever was wrong with his vehicle could be fixed with a little effort. Cars were a hell of a lot easier than people could be. 

When his stomach reminded him that it was time to have another meal, Spider finished up what he was doing and headed back into the house. 

He found West sitting at the dining room table, digging into the leftover pancakes with gusto. West had, at least, put on his baggy jeans, but had chosen to remain shirtless. This made it easier for Spider to get another look at the bruise on the boy's back. The skin there was ugly and discolored, but the bruise still looked fresh, maybe from a couple days ago. 

At least it hadn't broken the skin this time; Spider shuddered as he remembered a couple months ago when he'd had to take West to the hospital for an infection that had developed from an open wound on his shoulder. The nurses had eyed Spider warily while they'd stitched West up, like they thought Spider was the one who'd been beating up on West. He didn't blame 'em for thinking that about him – after all, he was on older guy, stocky and muscular and rough-looking, and West was a scrawny younger man with a pretty face and some story about tripping down the stairs that nobody believed. A guy didn't get a bruise like that from stairs. It had been pretty damn obvious he'd been hit by a person, but since West wouldn't say anything about who did it, the nurses hadn't been able to do shit. They'd been reluctant to send him home with Spider, but there wasn't anything they could do about it. 

Now, Spider approached the table and waited until West turned and acknowledged his presence with a nod before asking, "You doing okay?" He didn't like pressing West for too much information about what had actually happened. They never actually talked about the abuse, but West knew that Spider knew and wouldn't say anything about it. That was why West came to Spider's when he couldn't take it anymore, when he needed a break and just wanted some comfort without questions. 

"Yeah, I'm all right," said West casually, drowning his pancakes in more of that fake butter-flavored syrup that Spider kept in his fridge especially for West. Spider preferred the real stuff. "Hope it's okay with you that I washed my stuff here. I needed clean clothes for work tonight." 

"It's no problem," assured Spider. "You need a ride to work?" he asked. He walked over to the fridge to take out the leftover fried chicken from last night's dinner. He popped that into the microwave to reheat before turning to face West again. 

West didn't drive, though whether that was the bastard trying to trap West into staying or West's own personal choice, Spider never knew and hadn't bothered to ask. It wasn't really his business. 

"If you could," replied West. "I don't have to be there until six though. I really appreciate it." He gave Spider a small smile and then went back to the pancakes. 

Spider wanted to ask, though. He wanted to ask West why he bothered staying with an asshole who did that kind of shit to him. He wanted to offer for West to move in with him permanently, just so he wouldn't have to deal with being beat on any longer. 

Instead, he kept his mouth shut. It wasn't his business. 

"You can use the shower if you need to," Spider offered. 

West turned around to grin at Spider. "Oh yeah? You gonna shower with me, _David_?" He said Spider's given name in a teasing voice, his eyes traveling the length of Spider's body.

"No." Spider kept the answer short and tried not to blush at the other man's flirting. Jarod had been the only one to ever call him David in that way and he wasn't sure he liked comparing West to Jarod; that just gave him ideas that he didn't need to have.

West just smirked at him and went back to his breakfast. 

For a moment, Spider imagined what it would be like if they did live together. Whenever West came over, the sheer domesticity of the two of them together shocked Spider. It felt like he was letting the other guy take Jarod's place, and he wasn't sure if he liked that too much.

*

Spider dropped West off at the bar where he worked just before six, and before he got out of the truck, West leaned across the center console to thank Spider with a kiss to the cheek that Spider knew was meaningless. "Do you need a ride home later?" Spider asked as West hopped out of the truck. He'd do anything to keep West away from the bastard as long as he could.

"No, I'll just get Noah to bring me home," said West, referring to his boss and the owner of Murphy's Bar. "No reason for you to get up in the middle of the night just to give me a ride. Thanks for the offer." Then he shut the truck door gave a little wave to Spider before pulling the hood of his black sweatshirt over his head and walked into the building through the employee entrance. 

Spider had wanted to ask whether West was planning on going "home" to his bastard boyfriend, or back to Spider's house, or if he was going to home with Noah or find another place to stay the night. He hoped whatever it was didn't involve West going back to the bastard boyfriend.

When he got home, Spider fixed himself dinner with a glass of the good scotch – the Johnnie Walker black that he kept on hand for special occasions. Except he started off with one glass of the expensive scotch, then chased that with two glasses of the cheap stuff, and then he ended up finishing off the bottle of the cheap stuff, telling himself it was all right because there had only been about a third of the bottle left anyway. His body felt heavy and his head swam and he had to drag himself down the hall to the bedroom before he passed out on the bed. 

Several hours later, he was awoken by the creaking bedsprings and the dip in the mattress as somebody climbed into bed with him. In his groggy haze, Spider immediately thought of Jarod and opened his eyes, half-expecting to see Jarod's handsome sleeping face. But it wasn't Jarod, of course, and if Spider was sober he probably would have ventured a better guess as to who would be coming into his room at two o'clock in the morning. 

West was kneeling, shirtless, on Jarod's side of the bed, brushing a hand through his thick hair as he looked down at Spider. The glow of the moon through the window made his pale skin seem to shimmer. He looked like a faerie and Spider half-expected him to sprout wings and fly away.

Taking a deep breath, Spider recognized the scent of marijuana coming off West's body. That explained why his eyes were bloodshot and he had that hazy, faraway look on his face. Yet his eyes locked on Spider easily. "I'll be a good boy," said West. "Please can I stay with you? I can't go back there." His eyes were pleading, even as his voice betrayed none of that. He was scared.

Wordlessly, Spider reached for West's hand and gently tugged him down to the bed, helping him lie down. West curled into a fetal position and Spider tucked himself around the smaller man, wrapping his arms around West's chest and holding him close. "You can stay here as long as you like," he said into West's ear. "I don't mind at all." 

It had been a long time since he'd been curled up with somebody like this, but Spider couldn't deny that he had missed the feeling of another person's body heat, the steady breathing and a heartbeat other than his own. The bed was built for two people and it was more comfortable that way. 

Sleep came easily, the steady thump of West's heartbeat lulling Spider back to dreamland. 

The next time he awoke, sunlight was streaming through the window into his eyes. This time Spider did not need to open his eyes to remember who was in the bed with him. Apparently while they'd been sleeping, West had managed to press his body even closer, snuggling so close to Spider that there was not even a breath between them. Upon realizing this, Spider also became aware that the spooning position they were in had left him in a bit of a predicament.

His traitorous cock was half-hard and pressing into West's ass, his body getting too many ideas about what else they could be doing instead of sleeping. He froze, afraid to move any closer. Spider felt like such a pervert for getting an erection when he was supposed to be comforting the younger man. 

It seemed, however, that West didn't mind all that much, because while Spider was having his little internal crisis, West had woken up and was now pushing his ass back against Spider's cock. 

"Mmm," mumbled West. "Yeah." He sounded half-asleep, which made Spider feel even worse.

He promptly unwrapped himself from the other man and pulled the covers off his body, sitting up in the bed and reaching for the glass of water and aspirin he had waiting on the side table. If the booze wouldn't kill him, taking aspirin every morning would probably do him in. Spider was well aware of the somewhat dangerous behaviors he partook in, but he told himself it was too late to change. 

West sat up, running a hand through his messy hair and blinking at Spider. "S'matter, don't you wanna play?" he asked teasingly, grinning. Then he lowered his voice to a husky, sensual tone and said, "I'd let you, if you wanted." He tilted his head a little, a playful look in his eyes. 

"Stop saying that kind of shit to me," Spider growled, hating the way his body heated up at the thought. His brain provided him with images of how it could be if he went along with West's offer, and he had to push the thoughts away. Wrong time, wrong place. There would never be a right place for that kind of shit. "Fuck, you got any idea what you're saying? As much as I can't stand the guy, Craig is still your boyfriend and you're still –" He shook his head, unable to finish his sentence. 

For a moment, it was quiet between them as the smile faded from West's face. "I'm sorry," he said finally. "I shouldn't have said anything. I'm just –" He swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up, reaching for his shirt off the floor. "I should go home anyway. Craig's probably waiting for me there anyway. He's going to be mad if I'm gone more than a couple days." He kept his back to Spider as he pulled his shirt over his head, covering up that ugly bruise. 

_Don't go back to him._ But he kept his mouth shut as West pulled on his shoes and his sweatshirt. He stayed in the bedroom even as West left. It wasn't his place to chase after him. 

When Spider heard the front door slam, he slumped back against the wall, covering his face with his hands and wondered what the fuck was wrong with him.

*

On Friday night, Spider stopped at the liquor store on the way home from work and picked up another bottle of cheap scotch, since he'd finished off the last one. On a whim, he stopped at the pizza place and picked up a large pepperoni. While Spider didn't mind cooking, he didn't like doing so after a long day at work. Besides, he really hadn't treated himself to takeout in a long time and he deserved it.

When he entered the house, Spider immediately realized that there was somebody there. Judging by the black hooded sweatshirt hanging on the coat rack and the familiar green Converse sneakers neatly lined up next to Spider's work boots, he'd venture a guess that West decided to stop by. 

Spider's heart started beating a little faster as he worried about the reason for West's visit. He only ever dropped by after Craig – well, after 'issues' with the bastard. Spider just hoped it wasn't anything too serious; he couldn't handle taking West to the emergency room tonight, not after the shitty week they'd had so far. 

He found West in the living room, curled up on the couch with his feet tucked underneath him as he read what appeared to be one of Spider's _Car and Driver_ magazines, apparently so engrossed in what he was reading that he didn't see Spider walk in until the older man cleared his throat.

"Oh, hey. It's about time you got home," said West casually. He put the magazine down and stood up, pushing his hair away from his eyes with his hand, a gesture that should not have been as sexy as it was. "Is that pizza?" he asked, but before Spider could answer he was grabbing the box from his hands and setting it down on the coffee table, pulling the box open and inhaling. "Oh, pepperoni, my favorite!"

"So glad I picked the right kind," said Spider, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

West grinned at him, for a brief moment looking like a child on Christmas day. "You're adorable, you know that?" And for a moment he looked at Spider like he was having some pretty serious thoughts going on inside his head, the likes of which Spider was sure he didn't really wanna know. "Oh! I brought you a present!" he exclaimed and forgot the pizza for a moment as he went out to the front hall.

Rather than wait for him, Spider went into the kitchen to get napkins and a glass for his drink. Then, sighing, he got another glass for West and brought them back into the living room. He had a perfectly good dining room table at which to eat, but Spider really didn't feel like the situation called for the formality of a table and silverware. 

He sat down on the couch and helped himself to a piece of pizza as he waited for West to get back with whatever it was he was retrieving. 

"I would've wrapped it, but I got lazy," said West as he returned. "Here," he said and handed Spider a new bottle of Johnnie Walker Black. "I know you already have some, but I thought you can have another bottle for when you run out." 

"Thanks," said Spider, as he accepted the bottle. He really didn't know what else to say. "You didn't have to get me anything." He wasn't sure what the gift was for, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Did West feel guilty for coming over here? Was the scotch an attempt to alleviate his guilt?

West sat down on the couch as well and helped himself to a slice of pizza before responding. "I just want to thank you for being so good to me, for helping me out when I'm in trouble with – well, you know. You're the only person I can trust for that, you know? Even Noah doesn't like me staying at his place overnight. I think he thinks I'm going to steal something." West shrugged.

"You can stay here as long as you like." Spider hadn't intended to say it, but now that the words were out, he couldn't take them back. "I'd feel better if you were here and safe. I don't like it when he hits you." He was just glad he'd never met Craig face-to-face, because if he had, Spider would be in jail for murder instead of here with West. 

"You're too good to me," said West as he snuggled into Spider's side. "And I've got another present for you later if you'll let me." 

Spider wasn't sure he liked the sound of that at all.

*

They finished the pizza between the two of them, and after Spider threw away the pizza box and the dirty napkins, he poured himself a glass of scotch. He offered one to West, but the younger man refused. Then the two of them sat on the couch together, West still cuddling into Spider's side as though he belonged there. Spider wanted to stay here forever, letting the silence fall between them and holding back everything else – Jarod and Craig and all the shit out there. He just wanted this.

West was the first one to move, climbing off the couch to stand in front of it, eyeing Spider with a calculating smile on his face. "You won't be needing this," he said, taking the half-empty glass of scotch from Spider's hands. "I think it's time for your second gift, though," he said, and climbed into Spider's lap. 

"What are you doing?" 

Ignoring Spider, West took the older man's face in his hands and leaned in close, hovering just before a kiss, his breath teasing against Spider's lips. Then he huffed a laugh and closed the distance between their mouths, giving Spider a soft, tender kiss that left him breathless.

He couldn't find his voice, even when West backed away and look at him through heavy-lidded eyes. Spider knew he had to push West away and tell him to stop. This wasn't appropriate, not when West was still involved with Craig. 

"Stop thinking about it," whispered West. "David, can't you feel it?" He took Spider's hand and put it over his heart, allowing Spider to feel the heavy pounding in West's chest that matched his own. "This isn't just me thanking you for everything you've done. This is me listening to my heart for once. This is me doing what's right for me. Please just let me." His dark eyes were pleading and sincere. "I know you want this, too, David. Don't deny yourself." 

Spider squeezed his eyes shut, afraid that if he looked into that face any longer that he'd lose his resolve. He needed to be in control here; he couldn't let his body call the shots, not when his brain was telling him why this was a bad idea. But when he opened his eyes, all he saw was West's eyes looking into his. All he felt was West's body next to his, their heartbeats practically in sync. 

He was the one cupping West's face this time, and he was the one leaning forward for the kiss. He felt it all the way down to his toes, remembering how long it had been since he'd kissed anybody. West seemed to know what he was doing, kissing expertly even as his fingers fumbled with the buttons on Spider's flannel shirt.

When he finally got the shirt open, West sat back and took in the sight. "Damn, David, you have ink?" he asked, running his hands over the Marine Corps tattoo on Spider's upper chest. Spider had 'Semper Fi' written in script just above his heart; he'd gotten the tattoo after he'd finished with the Marines. It had been something to show his loyalty; the Marines had been a big part of Spider's early life and he didn't want to forget that. 

Spider didn't know if West wanted a response or not, so he just said, "That's the only tattoo I've ever gotten. Ain't no need to mark my whole body with ink to prove something." He looked pointedly at the skull tattoo on West's neck, at the sleeve tattoo on West's arm and the shamrock on his hand, and then he looked West in the eye, challenging him for a response. 

"I'm not proving anything to anybody," said West, glancing down at his own arm and the design that swirled its way up. "I like decorating my body. I mean, I have all this skin," he said, and pushed up the sleeves of his t-shirt to his shoulder, revealing the full length of the tattoo design, "and maybe I want it to look nice. If I have this, then when somebody looks at me, they don't just see me. They see this." He traced one of the lines up his arm. "And the skull," he said, brushing his fingers over the tattoo on his neck. "It's decoration; it's what makes people want to look at me. They see, oh, look he's got a skull on his neck, awesome. And then they come closer and they see the tribal design on my arm and then they don't look at my face because they're too busy trying to figure out what the design on my arm is for." 

While West was talking, Spider had been watching his facial expressions, noting the way West's voice wavered, the insecurity behind his words. "You ain't gotta cover yourself up," he said finally. "You look good no matter what. I don't know what that asshole tells you about yourself, but it ain't true." He brushed West's hair back from his face and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. And it wasn't just that West was beautiful, though he was. It was everything else, too. West wasn't a bad guy, though he'd had a lot of bad shit happen to him, and nobody deserved to get hit like that. 

"Why are you so good to me?" West asked in a low, husky voice as he helped Spider out of his shirt before tossing it aside. "This isn't about me right now anyway. This is me saying thank you, okay? So lie back and take it like a man." Rather than waiting for a response, West went straight ahead with helping Spider out of his jeans, dropping those on the floor before he worked Spider's cock out of his underwear. "Wow, you're bigger than I thought," he said, licking his lips.

And Spider wanted to say something, maybe like – _why don't you take your clothes off, too?_ or _it's about both of us _or even just _thanks___ – but he couldn't form the words, especially not when West got off his lap and nudged Spider's legs open, kneeling between them. West even looked up into Spider's eyes, and then licked the head of his cock before he took it into his mouth. 

"Fuck," breathed Spider, because how hot was it, watching West between his legs, sucking cock like it was something he was born to do? How good did it feel having somebody's mouth on him when the only kind of release he'd gotten in a long time had been from his own hand? 

For a moment he just let himself enjoy it; Spider couldn't bring himself to do anything except thread his hands through West's hair, gently holding him there. West continued, occasionally looking up to meet Spider's gaze, which just made everything that much hotter. He couldn't stand it anymore.

Just as he started to feel himself tighten up, about to tumble down that road toward sexual release, West pulled back, holding the base of Spider's cock in his hand as he looked up, grinning. 

"Fucking tease, aren't you?" said Spider, even as West climbed into his lap again, cupping Spider's face and kissing him again, deeper and longer. "Goddammit." 

Then West leaned in, kissed Spider's neck. "Not teasing," whispered West into his ear. "You're going to stay right here and I'm gonna fuck myself on your cock. You like that idea, David? You like that?" He rolled his hips teasingly.

Spider gasped and grabbed West's forearm, gripping hard. "You're gonna kill me, West," he said.

Rather than respond to that, West climbed out of his lap again, keeping his eyes on Spider as he slowly stripped off his own clothes. There was a moment when he was completely naked that West had that self-conscious look on his face. It was only for a split-second before his seductive smile came back, and then he was tossing Spider the condom and packet of lube. 

There was some awkward fumbling at first, when Spider's hands were shaking almost too much to put the condom on, and then while West prepared himself with the lube, but when he finally slid onto Spider's cock, both of them gasped out loud. 

"Oh, fuck, that feels good," said West, pausing for a moment to steady himself, hands firm on Spider's shoulders. "You sure you can handle this, old man?" he asked with a grin. He started moving again, a little at first, and then harder as he found a rhythm that worked for both of them.

"Jesus," hissed Spider. When he was able to focus again, he took West's cock in his hands and started stroking in time with West's movements. "You are gonna kill me," he groaned. 

Soon the air was filled with sweat and sex, gasps and moans of pleasure as their bodies moved together, West fucking himself on Spider's cock and Spider stroking him.

Watching West's face was almost Spider's favorite part of the whole thing – his half-lidded eyes, mouth open as he made little noises, pushing himself back on Spider's slicked cock. He was sweaty, his hair messed up and sticking to his face, and his chest heaving with every breath – and he was gorgeous. 

Spider couldn't hold back anymore, feeling himself close to that point of no return. 

And West – he didn't even slow down, throwing his head back and allowing Spider to take in the sight of his long, slender neck, his graceful body. 

Spider could hold back no longer, and he felt it coursing through him like electricity, like a lightning storm, and he let himself ride through it, keeping his eyes on West the entire time. When he was done, he found himself relaxing a little, the energy slowing draining out of him.

"Oh, no you don't. There's two of us here, buddy, and I better get mine, too," said West, slapping his hand on Spider's chest, though not hard enough to seriously injure him. "C'mon," he urged, covering Spider's hand with his own to help him along with his mission. 

As he stroked, Spider kept his eyes on West so he could tell when the other man was close; he found he liked watching the changing expressions and he discovered that West's face as he came was probably the most attractive thing he'd ever seen before. Spider leaned forward to kiss him on the lips as the West rode it out, as soft and tender as he could possibly be. 

There was another awkward moment as they cleaned up, but after that, West climbed back into Spider's lap and wrapped his arms around Spider's neck, pressing a kiss to his scruffy cheek. "That was probably the best sex I've ever had," he said into Spider's ear. 

Though he didn't want to pass judgment just yet, Spider was thinking the same thing. He held West in his lap, not wanting to go anywhere just yet. It was nice being that close together, just holding somebody like that. He felt like he could actually protect West this way.

That line of thought was a bad one, because it just brought him back to his initial objection to what they'd done. "Fuck," he growled, pushing West away. "Jesus, Craig is going to –" He didn't finish that sentence, not wanting to think about what Craig would do to either of them. 

West stumbled and then caught himself, standing to his feet. "Whoa, whoa, what the hell are you so worried about? Craig? You think Craig's going to come over here?" He shook his head, sighing, but there was a smile on his face. "He's... not going to be a problem anymore. I broke up with him. I mean, I don't have anywhere to live now, but at least I'm not staying with him anymore." He shrugged.

For a moment, Spider didn't know what to say, but then he was standing up again, feeling awkward because they were both still naked. But he wrapped his arms around West. "You can stay here," he said gruffly. "As long as you need. You really think it's okay though, West? You think he's not going to try to find you? He's just going to let you go?" Spider pulled back to look at him.

"He will if I get a restraining order," said West drily. "Noah helped me out with that, and Craig knows that if he comes near me I'm calling the cops." He shrugged again.

"Okay." Spider didn't have a response for that. He was upset with West for not having told him earlier, but there really wasn't anything to complain about. If Craig was out of the picture, did Spider really need to feel guilty anymore? 

"Now come on, David. Enough talking. I'm feeling kind of dirty," said West with a wicked grin on his face. "I think we need to go take a shower." He took Spider's hand in his own and led him down the hall as though he owned the place.

As West ran the water for the shower, Spider found that he couldn't keep his eyes off West's nude body, all that skin on display. He'd seen it before, but it was different seeing all that skin so soon after they'd had sex. Then Spider's eyes caught on something that he hadn't noticed before – what appeared to be a bruise forming on West's back. How had he not seen that before? 

"Is that bruise new?" Spider asked, pointing. "You lied to me, West. He wouldn't let you leave, would he? Not without a fight." He knew his own voice was harsh but now that he was imagining Craig hitting West – well, he saw red. "The asshole hit you when you tried to walk out, didn't he?" He clenched his hands into fists and told himself that it would be a _really fucking bad idea_ to drive over there and kick the shit out of Craig. It wasn't worth the hassle. 

West rolled his eyes. "Fuck's sake, David, does it even matter? It's over now, and it's not like the bruise hurts that badly or anything. I'll be fine. Now get into the shower." He gave the other man a very pointed look, but his casual attitude toward the whole thing was what Spider didn't like at all.

"Jesus Christ, West, don't you get it?" Spider asked. His heart was pounding heavily in his chest and he felt like he was going to do something drastic if he couldn't calm himself down soon. "If he hit you for trying to leave, do you really think he's just gonna leave it at that?" he asked. "West, he's going to come after you. That's what those assholes do!" Spider was starting to think that West's naivety was going to get him killed. No, he told himself. He couldn't blame West for the asshole's behavior. 

There was a long moment between the both of them as Spider looked at West and the younger man gave him a challenging look, as though he expected Spider to just drop it. Clearly he didn't know Spider as well as he thought he did if was expecting Spider to forget about this conversation. 

"We're taking a shower and then we're going right down to the police station," Spider finally said, sighing a little. He'd rather go right this minute, but he knew they could both use with a good scrubbing right now. He couldn't imagine how awkward it would be showing up at the police station looking like they'd just fucked – and with a quick glance in the mirror, Spider knew that was exactly how he looked, with his hair all over the place, cheeks flushed. 

Surprisingly, West didn't argue with this, but his playful attitude was back as he took Spider's hand and tugged him into the shower. The kid was going to need some talking to, and as much as he didn't want to, Spider figured he was going to have to be the one to sort things out. There was nobody else that was going to put up with West as long as he kept being – well, _West_. 

Maybe Spider was just a sucker. It sure as hell wasn't love. They're both too fucked up for that.

**Author's Note:**

> He says it's not love but these two have something, and I have a whole headcanon about them but it's taking me a while to write it. For now, here is a short story.


End file.
